Solaufein pushed deeper when he felt her leg lock around his own. Moans of encouragement drove him on along with his own determination. "Don't stop, Sol," she said and it sounded like a prayer, albeit a breathy and unsteady one. "Goddess! Yes...just like that..." And he obediently obliged because there was nothing in the world he liked more than his priestess falling apart in his arms. He heard his name on her lips, soft against his ear as he breathlessly brought her to that height. And when she peaked, so did he. That had never happened to him with any other woman, not just the priestesses who decided he would be a good toy. He tightened his arms around her as their bodies stilled, waiting a moment before easing out with a deep regret. After being so close, he never wanted to stop. But unfortunately his body required time to regain its vigor and she had no objections to waiting.

She laughed lightly, grey eyes alight when she looked up at him and lips curved into a very satisfied smile. "You follow instructions wonderfully," she murmured, tone teasing. As she shifted, she winced a little.

He almost froze. "Did I hurt you?" he asked her quickly. Granted, it would have been at her insistence, but priestesses could still be enraged about that.

His priestess laughed again. "No, Sol. But maybe next time we should make it to a bed."

It hadn't been his intention to practically jump her as soon as she walked in the door, but here they were on the stone floor among the clothes strewn around and that wasn't even taking into consideration the round against the wall. He'd almost ripped her clothes, or at least most of them. There were probably a few little tears that would need repairing, but she'd done anything except protest. "Sorry," he said quickly. Before he could continue his apology, he was halted just by the look in her eyes. That dark heat of want remained strong.

"Shut up and kiss me," she murmured, linking her arms around his neck to pull him down into a kiss that scorched part of his soul. He wasn't certain how she'd left such a mark, but it was an ever-present one. Sometimes he knew priestesses liked to carve marks in their males, consorts or not, as proof of conquest. Somehow his priestess had managed to do it invisibly and he'd enjoyed every moment of it.

When they broke apart, Solaufein regretfully picked himself up and helped her up off the floor. She didn't refuse, gracefully accepting his assistance...probably because her legs were a little weak still. He was proud of himself there. With the effect she had on him, it was gratifying to see she derived equal pleasure from it. It was not a normal response, as his nature usually demanded that he get the most out of things where he could, a sort of selfish survivalism, whether or not his partner enjoyed it being inconsequential. Generally, they were someone operating on the same principle. If that was how his priestess thought of things, she did a very good job of hiding it.

She made an approving noise as she sank down onto his bed. Sol did the same. He had to admit, this was much more comfortable than the floor or the wall. But need had replaced everything else earlier. After being the toy of others, he was always desperate for her touch. It convinced him that there could be sex without pain. "I didn't realize you were going to be here," he said. It was a strange hour for her visit. Normally she came to see him in the evenings, not the mornings. House business tended to take up more of her time than he might have preferred.

"I had to ask Alaunraena a favor, and the best time to catch her is before she's sour and bogged down," his priestess said casually.

Solaufein was surprised. His priestess never asked anyone for a favor. She compelled them to do things because they owed her. It was out of character and that worried him. Was something wrong at House Duskryn? He found her hand and brought it to his lips for a soft kiss. "And what was this favor about?"

The grey eyes that regarded him, so playful a moment ago, were now somber. "You."

Hope was blooming to life in his chest despite the fact that he knew it was foolish. It could have been one in a thousand other things. "Are you going to elaborate?" he asked.

"I was not certain if you would even want to know of it, considering she refused me," his priestess said. He knew by the way her hand began stroking his back that she had seen his mood plummet. "But perhaps knowing of the effort would ease some of this. I asked her for permission to make you my consort."

He was floored despite himself. He'd never thought she would actually do it, not after so long passing with no indication from her that she might even consider staking a solid claim on him. It might not save him from the predations of all priestesses, but it would certainly terrify the majority off. Llolfaen Duskryn was not a woman to be trifled with. Her connection to the Spider Queen was supposedly unrivaled and she was a noble from an influential House. "Why did she refuse?"

"From what I gleaned, she has other plans for you," his priestess said. Her tone was even, but he could see a grimness to her expression. She knew more than she was saying. Instead of revealing her thoughts, she sighed and touched his face. "If I had been swifter to act, if I were more powerful, if I had more status, she would not have dared refuse me." Her lips brushed his lightly before she finished with, "Give me more time, and I will have everything you deserve."

It was a declaration that took his breath away, drawing his thoughts away from any schemes his mother might have designed in her twisted mind. "I should be the one proving myself to you," he pointed out quietly.

"I am proving myself for you," his priestess said. He felt her fingers move from his face back to his side. She followed the lines of muscles, a ghost of a touch as she studied him thoughtfully. "I always get what I want, no matter how hard the work to achieve it."

"And you want me?" Solaufein said. He didn't feel like...enough, not to warrant this kind of attention. Yes, he was Weapons Master and a noble, but he was not so famous a blade or stunning a commander. He wasn't particularly handsome or ugly. Just average. At least for a noble.

Her eyes were hooded now, a touch of a smile twitching her lips up at the corners. "I believe I do," she purred suggestively. He knew what she was doing—his priestess was never one to keep her declarations serious. And he understood. If she made it a joke or an innuendo, it was that much less terrifying than admitting to a real feeling, but she could still say what she felt. He was tempted at times to do the same, but he lacked the joking nature to make it anything other than awkward. And there was another way for her to keep him from probing too deeply at her defenses: her hand drifted lower and he gasped as fingertips just barely touched highly sensitive flesh. All the blood in his body seemed to rush towards his groin.

"One more question," he groaned out, trying to focus.

"Fine," she huffed playfully, removing her hand. He immediately wanted to ask for it back, but it was important that he asked this.

"After all this time, why ask for me to be your consort now?" Solaufein asked. He saw something unreadable flash in those grey eyes, still dark with her desire.

She sighed and he could almost feel her calming herself down. The less she wanted to talk about it, the more eager she was to lose herself in distraction. If her response to him earlier and this now had been any indication, she really didn't want to talk about it. "Because I thought I could protect you this way," she said very softly, looking down and away from him. He wished she wouldn't do that. It reminded him of how he was forced to keep his eyes lowered around the Matrons and priestesses. He never wanted her to feel so small.

"Protect me from what?"

She arched an eyebrow at him in that Duskryn way. It made him want to kiss her senseless. "You said only one question," she pointed out even though the mood between them had changed. The fire had been dampened a bit.

"Llolfaen, please," he pleaded, knowing it was important.

She sat up and turned a little, putting her back to him. It was not good news when she didn't want to look into his eyes. His priestess felt responsible. "There's going to be an alliance between House Fey Branche and House Baenre. Alaunraena is going to give you to Myrineyl Baenre as a show of...let's call it good faith," she said bitterly. "I had no intention of leaving you at her mercies. But the politics of Menzoberranzan care nothing for the desires of the weak."

Solaufein felt a chill settle into his bones at the mention of his future, but he did not show it. It was more important now to offer comfort whether it would be taken or not. He sat up, slipping his arms around her tense body and pressing a kiss to the top of her shoulder. "You are not weak," he said quietly. "You graduated well from Arach-Tinilith. You have led more successful raids beneath and upon the surface than Myrineyl Baenre ever will. You are the scion of a powerful house."

"And someday I will kill her," his priestess said, her voice quiet. "I will not leave you to suffer a lifetime at her hand. I know her. She will torture you to wound my pride and stoke my hatred because she believes I will then do something foolish."

"Maybe," he said. "But that does not mean this has to come to an end. What is one more secret in a life of them?"

She turned to face him quickly, grey eyes looking at him with something between concern, gratitude, and anger. "You will get yourself killed," she said. "Do you think Myrineyl will permit that kind of insult?"

"You said yourself that she would torture me. That means she won't kill me," Solaufein said, finding her hand with his own. Her skin felt so soft against his own. "If I was still able to see you, every moment would be worth it."

For a moment, he could see that his priestess was didn't know what to say. In all their time together, he had never seen her at a loss for words and short a tease. Finally, she leaned in and kissed him almost chastely. "That is a choice I leave to you to make," she breathed out. "I will never force you."

When Llolfaen Duskryn promised something, she meant it. Solaufein felt like he was going to pass out. A priestess had just allowed him the power to choose at one of the most important moments in his life. "I want you," he said, meeting her eyes so she would know that he meant more than just her body. She struggled to keep her eyes on his, but she didn't break his gaze. It was as though the action overwhelmed her.

She smiled a little. He could see the light almost blaze in her eyes. "Then I suppose I had better take you," she teased him softly before drawing him into a kiss, this one much deeper than the last and considerably less patient. He could feel desire sparking back to life between them now that their future was decided. It would not be an easy or a safe one, but it was what it was.

"You should be happy, brother. This is a chance to become Patron of House Baenre," Dhauntar said cheerfully, dropping into a chair across from Solaufein who was laying on the couch, trying to pretend that his whole body didn't ache painfully. Myrineyl had been incredibly thorough in her abuse. No matter how much he tried to leave his body and get lost within thoughts and memories of his priestess, she had found a new and painful way to drag him into the present rather than the fond past or hopeful future. It had made his performance unsatisfying and that absolutely couldn't be allowed to go unpunished. Not when Myrineyl was concerned.

"You try Myrineyl's charms and see how happy you are," Solaufein snarled. He eased himself up, trying to ignore the pains in his body. "Besides, vermin, this change only means you became Weapons Master, a title you did nothing to earn."

"And it means Revered Llolfaen's attentions are free," Dhauntar said with a grin, knowing his brother was in no position to do anything about it. Even though it was highly discouraged, the older male seemed very not only attached to but possessive of the priestess. "There's room there for many a male to move up. She still needs a consort."

"If you even try, I will kill you," Solaufein said evenly as the heat of anger poured through his veins. The idea of his brother even speaking to his priestess infuriated him, let alone the idea of him touching her in any way. He could certainly see Dhauntar trying. It was a way to get through Sol's armor for a good, solid stab. The former Weapons Master was fairly certain Llolfaen would shut his brother down so quickly that even lightning would be blindsided, but there was always that niggling little doubt that someday his priestess would realize how little he had to offer her or she would get bored with him. It wasn't beyond the bounds of possibility.

"You're not her consort. You're Myrineyl's," Dhauntar pointed out. He sprang up. "Now I'm going to go enjoy being Weapons Master while you sit here and lick your wounds."

Solaufein glared daggers at his brother, but said nothing as the younger male sauntered off. He closed his eyes and let himself drift off into memories of Llolfaen. Her hands on his skin and her lips working their way along his jawline. It was a far, far more pleasant reverie than any other he could think of. Even just her fingers working the tension out of his muscles drew him out of his memories of Myrineyl Baenre's cruelty. Part of him was bitter that he had been thrown to her just for the Matron's personal gain, but he understood how the game was played.

He didn't want to be Patron. It was the first time in a long time he might have said something like that, actively giving up the idea of power. He wanted to wake up every morning in his priestess's arms and to go to bed every night with her body pressed against his. This new world he was trying to adjust to with Myrineyl was not what he had hoped for his future. It was a cold and empty thing. And yet, even in it there was a brightness from his priestess. They would see each other. Things would work. His present situation would not be his fate for the rest of his life, if she were to be believed. Normally, he might have taken a more fatalistic view of his situation, but for her he would soldier on and dare to hope. It would drive Myrineyl insane. She seemed so eager to break him and force him back into the mold of blind compliance that he had broken away from.

"Solaufein." It was Myrineyl. He might have flinched were it not for the stiffness in his muscles that prevented him from making any such sudden movements. The bite marks in his shoulder stung and the scratches down his back burned. Being with her was not a pleasant memory. It left him feeling dirty and somehow used.

"Mistress," he said with a coolness he could not conceal, rising to his feet despite the aches in his body. He bowed his head before he could even look at her, fixing his eyes on the floor.

She caught him by his chin and tilted his head up so that he had no place to look except for her crimson eyes. It only made him long for familiar grey eyes that much more. "You will make earlier up to me," she said in a purr.

"I do not think I can," he admitted without as much reluctance as he probably should have had. Myrineyl was not an unattractive woman, though her cruelty outweighed her beauty in his eyes. His body was simply too damaged from her displeasure already. At least, too damaged for the roughness of an encounter with Myrineyl. Not that she would care enough to hold off for that reason. He stayed still when she moved close to him, close enough for him to inhale the scent of incense from the temple on her hair. So that was where she had been. A pity it had not kept her longer. He missed the smell of earthy sweetness, like a surface breeze, that clung to his priestess.

"But you will," she said, just a touch of threat to her tone. It did not have to be a great deal to make him fear for his wellbeing and even his life with her. Myrineyl was not a forgiving woman, as he now knew personally. She kissed him without any of the gentle teasing he had come to expect. This was harsh and demanding, like everything with the noble of House Baenre. He knew his body would respond automatically eventually, but it would be a mechanical thing rather than something born of any true passion or intimacy. His legs hit the couch and he sat down hard with Myrineyl landing in his lap. It sent a shockwave up his spine that was not pleasant at all, but instead a frisson of pain that reminded him all too clearly that he had been punished. He forced himself to act interested, to pretend as though he actively desired her. It was more than he had done earlier. Guilt had stopped him then. But this was about survival and avoiding pain. He had to stifle a groan of pain and felt her fingernails dig into the back of his neck. She was enjoying his resistance...and his suffering,

"Revered Myrineyl," a very familiar voice said, cutting right through the blur of pain. He immediately broke away from Myrineyl's lips and turned his head towards his priestess, earning himself a glare from the Baenre noble. It was hard to read his priestess's face. It looked on the surface like a sort of indifferent impatience, her lips thin and her eyes hard like slate, but he could also read anger. It was a helpless rage at the woman inflicting pain on him, so well hidden that it was barely perceptible. He knew it only because he had become attuned to her many moods.

There was something catlike to Myrineyl's broad smile. Certainly, she found a certain joy in prodding at Llolfaen Duskryn, hunting for a weakness in the favored soul's armor. They were not by any stretch of the imagination on friendly terms. His priestess was too danerous to simply be brushed aside as so many were by Myrineyl and House Duskryn was viewed with a certain distaste by the first House. "I'm busy, Llolfaen. Unless you want to watch?"

"It's the Matron Mothers who want you, not me," his priestess said with only the faintest curl of her lip.

That earned a growl of displeasure from the cleric currently in his lap. "What does she want?" Myrineyl said irritably, standing up.

"Do I look like a Matron?" Llolfaen said, her voice clipped and precise in that way that meant her temper was wearing thin. "Siniira expects you in her presence as quickly as possible. If I had to guess, I would wager it has something to do with why shipments of weapons from Rilauven destined for the soldiers protecting the city are disappearing from under House Baenre's nose, considering Matron Mother Quenthel is with her."

Myrineyl's expression of satisfaction vanished with an astonishing alacrity only to be replaced by a fury. "Fine," she snarled, heading for the door. Solaufein rose and followed, knowing it was expected. He was grateful that his priestess had managed to rescue him, whatever her reasons. She followed after Myrineyl as well through the halls of House Fey-Branche and down the avenues towards House Duskryn, which was not all that far away. The streets of Qu'ellarz'orl were as busy as they ever were, the traffic of all the servants needed to maintain the lifestyle of the city's rich and powerful moving along without paying them any heed other than to get out of their way. Nobles were not hard to spot and every slave or servant knew never to touch them or stand in their way. The lights and decorations of faerie fire on shops lit the street below as they wound their way through.

As they finished their journey in the halls of House Duskryn's compound, when his priestess was certain that no one was looking, her hand brushed against his and he felt their fingers interlace for a moment in a soft squeeze. Then the contact was gone, but the warmth it left remained. His heart felt as though it had swelled.

He and his priestess were left to wait outside of the audience hall while Myrineyl went in for what would inevitably be a tongue lashing, as this had apparently been blamed on her. Solaufein took some satisfaction in the idea even though he knew it would put the Baenre noble in a foul mood. Technically, he was part of that House as well now, but he barely felt like it. There had been no welcome into the family, though he had the sympathy of Andzrel Baenre. The Weapon Master's advice had been to find some female of a lower station to vent on, willing or not. It was not something that appealed to Solaufein. He knew where he wanted to be.

Sol turned to his priestess, who was studying him with pensive grey eyes, "She's been mistreating you," the favored soul said, "Let me heal you?"

"If you do, she'll just reapply the wounds," Solaufein said in gentle refusal. It was honest, if not the most comforting thing in the world.

His priestess kissed him gently, lips soft and yielding against his. He felt a sudden sense of desperation and deepened the kiss as his arms wrapped around her waist. How long would it be until he could see her again? Weeks, months? She seemed to feel it too, at least until they parted to breathe, "We're going to get caught, Sol," she said, in a cautioning tone as she looked up and down the hallway. "I don't want to find out what she would do to you then."

"Then give me a time to meet," he said, struck by a sort of bravery born from fear. "A place, a date, something."

She studied him for a long moment. "You go out on patrol in a week, don't you?"

He was surprised. "You know House Baenre's duty rosters?"

His priestess shrugged a little bit. "When it concerns you," she said, evading his eyes.

Solaufein smiled faintly. "Well, your sources are accurate."

"Can you get into Melee-Magthere when you arrive back? A House Captain should be able to, if only to scout potential talent. Find me there," she said softly, reluctantly disentangling herself. "I have people who owe me substantial favors there who can make certain that Myrineyl doesn't find out."

"I can get in without a problem," he assured her. Sol studied her curiously. "Why not here? Your family controls everything that moves in and out of this House, including information."

"Which is the problem. My family is also comprised of Zesstra, who would love to see Myrineyl get a shot in at me," his priestess said. She touched his face gently. "I'll find or make a safe space here for us, but that will take time and favors. For now, Melee-Magthere is what is available to us."

Solaufein nodded in understanding. He would take anything she was prepared to give. He caught the sound of approaching footsteps and kissed her quickly. "Until then," he told his priestess, schooling his features into neutrality for when Myrineyl emerged.